Oh man, there’s water lapping against our back door.

Ask permission before approaching someone else’s poem.

“Thank you for complying, please retrieve your SensaBar from the delivery tray.”

A Life of Charred Bread ultimately fails to deliver, both in terms of pace and stodgy language.

Max was holding a thin mint.

The Porno King somehow senses victory and throws in one more “Yea-a-a-a-a-ah!”